Homecoming
by Rayhne
Summary: What if Garibaldi hadn't connected with the Mars Resistance? Takes place in the 5th season. Put on temporary hold while I work on Circles. Read into for more details.
1. Introduction

**05/28/2008:** This story has been placed on hold for a short period of time. I am having trouble with the next part so I have decided to concentrate on Circles, hoping that giving this story a rest will help me work out what happens next. Among other things, I read a story called A PENNY FROM HEAVEN that totally through this story off. :(**  
**

This story kept bugging me until I finally wrote it. It is lightly beta-read. Everything that happened in the B5 universe up to late season four, where Bester removes Garibaldi's programming, occurs in this story. Shortly after that event, something happens that changes the course of the story. Story 1 occurs about five months after Earth's civil war ended. Story 2 and 3 occur several months later.

Dialogue done using the texttyper appears as _#text#_. Telepathic communication appears as _/thought/_.

**05/04/2008:** Reposted parts 1, 2, 3. Part 3 has been rewritten. Sorry about that folks. Part 4 is coming along nicely but will take longer for two reasons: **1)** It's a longer, more intense part. The climax, if you will. **2)** While this is very much a Garibaldi story, G'Kar keeps wandering in and the next thing I know there's three pages of flowery Narn speech. While wonderful (G'Kar is so easy and wonderful to write!), I have to go back and glean through it as there seems to be way too much dialogue.  
**03/09/2008: **Posted Story 3, minor corrections and additions to Stories 1 and 2.  
**02/28/2008:** Minor correction to Story 2.  
**02/26/2008:** Added introduction page. Story 1 has minor rewrites and corrections. (Where did that credstick come from anyway :P) Yes, I know the name texttyper is a rather stupid one but I couldn't think of anything better and it seems to have grown on me. Story 2 has been posted. The conversation that G'Kar remembers is not what appeared in the filmed episode 'A Day in the Strife' but what was actually in the script.

**Response to Reviews (updated 06/13/2008):  
**delenntoo - Thanks! G'Kar is a lot of fun to write.  
Ven'K – The Telepath War occurs long after the series ended so this occurs several years before that war (if it even occurs in this universe; it may not.).  
LkeVelvet – Thank you!  
lozza - Thank you. The next story should be coming up soon. And concerning Bester -- define 'nasty'. :really evil grin:  
Laurie M - Thank you! I always thought the relationship between Garibaldi and G'Kar was sadly neglected. After all, Garibaldi was G'Kar's first non-Narn friend and yet it is never referenced to again through the rest of the series. (For the interested, the friendship between these two will also be covered in my story, CIRCLES as well.) Ta'Lon came along simply because he was G'Kar's bodyguard and has now become a part of the story.


	2. Part 1

Ramirez glanced down the line of incoming beings and sighed. Another long day and his shift not over for another five hours. Time to take that vacation.

He took the next identicard and scanned it, waving the owner through with a few insincere works of welcome. Taking the next card, he scanned it, ready to do the same but then the name registered and he froze for a long moment. His mouth dry, he looked up into a familiar face partially hidden by the shadows of a hood. No, not completely familiar. The scar bisecting his face was new.

There was recognition in the hazel eyes but no pleasure and no welcome. In fact, there was nothing and Ramirez felt a coldness creep down his spine. Those eyes, once so friendly and warm and filled with humor, could best be described as dead.

"If you could step out of the line please." He was pleased that his voice didn't shake and even more pleased when the man obeyed without protest. In fact, he seemed to have expected it. He gestured for another security officer to take his place and led the way to the custom house. To his relief, it was empty. "Sit down." He said and the man moved to the row of seats against the wall, pulling the strap of his pack over his head and setting it on one of the chairs before slumping down on another.

Ramirez tapped his link. "Ramirez to Allan." He said quietly. "Could you come to the custom house? Now?"

"Be right there." Came the reply.

Ramirez leaned against the wall, watching the other man, wondering why he was here. Wondering, too, how he thought he could get away with showing his face here. Then the door open and he straightened, thrusting out the scanner to his superior.

Zack Allan took one look at the young man's face and took the scanner, his jaw tightening at the name on it. He raised his head, looking at the man slumped in the chair against the wall. The hood covered his face in shadows but the build was right.

"Go back to your station. Don't mention this to anyone." He held the door open and Ramirez slipped out. Closing the door behind him, Zack turned to see the man now looking at him impassively. He looked back at the scanner and the name there. Garibaldi, Michael Alfredo. The man who sold out Sheridan and now had the gall to show up here, of all places. He was surprised he'd made it this far, that someone hadn't gutted him and left him for dead already. But then there were those who agreed with his actions and his lips thinned.

"The hood ..." He started but the other man was already reaching up and pulling it from his face. Zack blinked at the sight of the scar that ran across his face, starting above his right temple and slashing downward, between his eyes, across his nose, and to the left of his lower jaw. His head had been shaven smooth the last time Zack had seen him but now he had a thin layer of hair. It was totally gray as was the beard he now had. He was dressed simply; boots, loose-legged pants, beige shirt, and a tan sleeveless duster. A bandanna was tied around his throat.

"What ..." Zack started then stopped dead, reminding himself that he didn't really care. "What are you doing here?" He asked curtly.

Garibaldi shifted slightly but didn't answer. His eyes didn't leave Zack's but the younger man couldn't read them at all. They were empty, totally without expression and were giving Zack the creeps.

"I need an answer. You can't expect to get on this station without one!"

Garibaldi's lips parted slightly then he reached up to pull the bandanna down, just far enough for Zack to see the scar on his throat.

"What?" Zack paused, the implication of the scar sinking in. "You can't talk."

The other man shook his head, pulling the bandanna back up.

"Fine." Zack picked up a pad of paper and a pen and tossed them to him. "What are you doing here?"

Garibaldi hesitated, staring at the blank piece of paper on the top of the pad. After a moment, he wrote four words on it and handed them back to the security chief.

Zack looked at those words then at him again. There was no sympathy on his face. "Back here." He said curtly and Garibaldi rose. Leaving his pack on the chair, he walked into the indicated cell. He moved stiffly, as if walking hurt or maybe was more than the effort was worth. Zack locked the cell door and turned to walk out, closing the door to the custom house. On an afterthought, he keyed the door to open only to him.

#

Zack stood outside the President's office, torn. What was he going to say? What could he say? Ivanova had put a shoot on sight order on Garibaldi but was that still in effect? And even if it was, could he shoot the man in cold blood? Maybe five months ago, when they had first heard of his betrayal of their Captain but now?

Let the President decide.

He entered the room as the door opened, stopping in front of desk. President John Sheridan looked up with a bemused smile. "If I'd known how much paperwork there was involved with this job, I think I would have turned down the offer." His smile faded when Zack continued to look serious. "What's wrong?"

"Someone just came onto the station I thought you should know about." Zack said quietly. "It's ... uhmmm ... it's Garibaldi."

Sheridan lost all expression. "Where?"

"Right now, he's at the custom house."

Sheridan stood slowly, reaching for the cane he now needed to use. He had survived only because of a desperate rescue by a group of Rangers, using information Marcus has acquired from somewhere, where they would never know since the Ranger had died before he could tell the story. He walked around the desk, remembering his last sight of Garibaldi, sitting in that bar, watching impassively as the ambush was sprung.

"What has he said?"

"Nothing. He, ahhh, he's got a wound on his throat. Must have taken out his vocal cords or something. Apparently he can't talk. But I asked him what he was doing here and he wrote this down." He handed the pad to Sheridan and the other man looked at the four words printed there.

'_Nowhere else to go'_

"Comm ... Captain Ivanova had a shoot on sight order for him."

"It's no longer in effect. I canceled it." After a moment he asked quietly. "How does he look?"

"Rough." Zack said after a long moment's thought. "Like he's been through seven kinds of Hell. He's got a scar across his face." He traced the scar on his own face. "I'd heard the Mars Resistance had gotten him."

Sheridan glanced at the pad.

'_Nowhere else to go'_

"Maybe they did."

"You want me to put him on the next ship out of here?"

Sheridan looked at him for a moment then slowly shook his head. "No." He said tiredly. "Let him go. Just let him go."

Zack hesitated then nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And tell your men to leave him alone. I know some of them may be tempted to ... to exact some revenge but he isn't worth it. As long as he follows the laws here, just leave him alone."

"Yes, sir." Zack turned and walked out of the room.

Delenn moved from the shadows of the other room where she had been standing and over to her husband, resting a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her and she could see that part of him that wanted to storm down there and demand answers. But there was another part of him that was afraid of what those answers might be.

"Why do you think he's here?" She asked. There was a part of her that truly wanted to know. Another part simply wanted to kill him.

"I don't know. I don't really care. It's over and done. Wasting my time on him just brings it all back." He sighed. "I suppose we should keep an eye on him." He moved toward the Babcom.

Delenn steered him back to his chair. "Zack will take care of that." Delenn said. "You are right. He is not worth wasting our time on."

Sheridan hesitated, glancing at the pad he still held.

'_Nowhere else to go'_

He tossed the pad into the disposal and turned back to his wife.

#

Zack saw the knot of security officers by the custom house and gritted his teeth. He'd have to have a long talk with Ramirez. One of the men turned at his approach.

"Chief, is it true? That bastard actually had the balls to show up here?"

"Yeah, Garibaldi's here. But!" He said sharply, getting everyone's attention. "The President says to cut him loose and leave him alone."

This brought a babble of protest but Zack glared them down. "President's orders. Let him go. Leave him alone. Now get back to work!" He stood there, watching at they drifted away, still grumbling. Some continued to hang around but he ignored them as he opened the door and stepped back into the custom house.

Garibaldi looked up, his face impassive. No fear, no hope, no nothing. Just existence. Zack opened the cell door and gestured him out. "Empty your pockets." He ordered. Picking up the pack Garibaldi had been carrying, he opened it, searching through the meager contents thoroughly. Extra clothing, a blank journal, odds and ends, including, he was surprised to see, a Narn-to-English translator. He wasn't surprised to see a flask in the bag as well and he opened it, finally determining that it held brandy. Lips compressed, he closed it tightly and dropped it back into the bag. He was almost disappointed not to find any weapons or anything illegal.

He glanced at the items Garibaldi had pulled from his pockets. A bandanna, a handful of currency from a few different worlds, a texttyper, a pocket knife ...

He reached down to pick up the knife, knowing he'd seen it before. Garibaldi had once told him it had been his father's and before him, his grandfather's. All good, honest cops. He met the other's eyes, knowing that his disgust and contempt would be clearly visible. There was no response and Zack tossed the knife back onto the counter, opening a drawer to pull out a tag. When he looked up, Garibaldi was already holding out his right arm, the sleeve shoved up far enough for him to snap the bracelet on and lock it.

"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing here," Zack's voice was cold. "But the President says to let you through. Keep your nose clean and don't break any laws. Actually, I recommend you don't even think of bending any."

Garibaldi simply nodded, pulling his hood back up and reaching for the pack.

"That hood won't hide you for very long."

The other man paused before raising his eyes to met Zack's and the younger man suppressed a shiver, realizing that Garibaldi didn't really care if it hid him. A part of him wondered if that's why he was here, to die. Maybe hoping someone would kill him. He shook off that thought, reflecting that it was none of his concern. And besides, he didn't care. He jerked his head toward the door and Garibaldi walked out. Zack moved to the doorway to watch him.

There were more security officers scattered around than there should be and they all looked up as Garibaldi stepped from the custom house. For the most part their faces were cold and hard but several had lost bewildered looks that begged the older man for an explanation. Some simply stood there, watching him impassively. He looked at none of them, even when one man spat at him in contempt.

Zack watched until the figure of his former chief and friend vanished into the crowds exiting the customs area then turned back to his work.


	3. Part 2

Zack Allan walked into his office, moving toward his station. Automatically he glanced at the tag board, seeking out the one marked with a red 'G'. Still Downbelow. He ran a quick check. No sign of him leaving that area during the last 24 hours. No sign of him leaving it since he returned over three months ago. What the hell could he be doing down there?

Given his history, Zack figured he was spending his time in a drunken stupor. Well, as long as he wasn't causing any trouble, he didn't care. He just wanted to know his location in case the President asked. Not that he ever had.

Though Captain Lochley did, every now and then. He'd been surprised at the woman's reaction when she had found out Garibaldi was on the station. Technically, Garibaldi had been in the right and had even assisted the side Lochley had been on at the time but she had wanted him deported immediately. Actually, she wanted him spaced but Sheridan had voted her down. There were no charges against him and as long as the former security chief behaved himself, he was to be left alone.

Of the others, when Stephen Franklin had heard of Garibaldi's presence, he had simply nodded and returned to his Medlab. He didn't know Ivanova's reaction or even If she had been informed, since she was commanding her own ship and hadn't been back to Babylon 5 in months. Of the others who'd known Garibaldi before his betrayal, their reactions had been varied. All Zack knew was that he'd found his tag indicator changed to 'J' several times before he finally locked it.

He turned back to his reports, scowling at the number of them then one of his men called for him and he left his station with a sense of relief.

#

Dr. Hobbs ran through the report she held. Nine-year-old human boy with an progressive unknown disease. They were managing to keep the degeneration from continuing but were unable to do anything to reverse the condition. She smothered a sigh. There were meager signs of improvement but not nearly enough then she corrected herself. Any improvement was a good sign.

She glanced up as Margaret Pierson stepped hesitantly into the Medlab and smiled encouragingly. She knew that, if it weren't for her son, the woman would never come out of Downbelow. But her son needed regular treatment and checkups so she made the weekly pilgrimage faithfully, no matter what.

"Sorry we're late." Margaret started, looking at her with washed-out brown eyes. A small, nervous woman, she looked much older then her thirty-one years, her fingers twisting around each other. "Frankie's wheelchair broke down again and it couldn't be fixed in time."

"It's all right." Dr. Hobbs reassured her, glancing at the figure behind her. Whoever it was had Frankie in his arms, the equipment the boy needed slung across his back. She reflected that he had to be strong to carry both the boy and his equipment all the way from Downbelow then she saw the scarred face half-hidden by the hood and any welcome she may have felt faded. After a moment, she realized that Margaret was speaking to her in a determined voice.

"Michael was kind enough to carry Frankie up." The woman had moved to stand directly in front of the doctor. She was startled to realize that the usually timid Margaret had an expression on her face that dared her to make something of it. "Are we in the usual room?" She waited for a moment before reminding her gently. "The equipment is heavy."

"Yes. Yes, of course." She gestured and Michael Garibaldi stepped around the two women and into the room. Gently he set the boy down and unstrapped the equipment, swinging it down to rest on the ground. He took a moment to work his back and shoulders, rubbing briefly at the one the strap had cut across. Frankie said something to him and he bent down to listen, nodding after a moment.

"Frankie." Margaret said in a warning tone and the boy looked at him with too-innocent eyes. Michael straightened and looked at Margaret inquiringly. "You're as bad as he is." She sighed. "This appointment usually takes an hour." He nodded and reached out to rumple the boy's hair before stepping from the room. "Thanks for your help." She added and he paused briefly to smile at her, making an 'anytime' gesture before walking from the Medlab.

Dr. Hobbs watched him go, wondering how he could dare to act so normal after what he did. For a moment, she considered asking Margaret what he was doing Downbelow but the woman was already sitting by her son's side, the set of her shoulders suggesting that she didn't want to talk about anything but her son.

#

Michael paused outside the Medlab, frowning. A part of him - a large part of him - wanted to return Downbelow but logic told him that he'd reach it just in time to turn around and come back. He wavered then hesitantly moved toward the Zocalo, automatically adjusting his hood to cover his face and making sure the tag bracelet was hidden under his sleeve. He flinched as he moved into the shopping crowd, surprised to realize that he was afraid. In Downbelow, few beings cared about who he was, who he had been, what he had done. They only cared that he either leave them alone or help them. Up here, too many people hated him.

He drifted through the crowds, relaxing as the others ignored him and started to look at the merchandise. He paused at a stall selling fruit, including oranges. A quick glance at the proprietor told him he didn't know the man and he relaxed. Picking up an orange, he sniffed it and smiled. After a moment, he glanced at the seller and gestured that he wanted six. Digging out the credits, he counted them into the man's hand and took the bag, slipping it into one of the deep pockets of the duster before moving on.

#

Zack returned to his station, sinking into the chair with a sigh. Automatically he glanced at the tag board then away again. He eyes snapped back when he realized something was missing. He searched the board until he saw the red 'G', finally finding it at the Zocalo. So he finally decided to make an appearance. Zack shook his head and started to turn away then paused with a frown at the sight of three security officers, identified by 'S', moving purposely toward Garibaldi. He hesitated then sighed, pushing himself back to his feet.

#

Michael walked through the marketplace, noting stalls that had been there before he left and stalls that were new. He glanced at his timepiece. Thirty-five minutes left. Maybe he'd just go back and wait outside of the Medlab ...

He stopped abruptly, his mouth watering. The small hot food stall was still there, tucked away in a corner. Well. He started toward it then paused uncertainly. The owner of this shop, a little man named Julio, definitely knew him. He could see him in the shadows, whistling cheerfully as he cooked up the fillings and prepared the tortillas. Torn, he remembered how good those burritos he made were.

Oh, hell. He couldn't hide forever and there were worse reasons to expose himself. He waited for the current customer to move away and stepped forward, bracing himself for an immediate negative reaction.

The little man glanced up, dark eyes snapping, without a break in his routine. "_Hola_!" He said with a welcoming grin. "Usual?"

Michael was too astonished to respond for a moment then nodded.

"Coming up. Anything else?" His hands flew as he tossed fresh ingredients into the wok.

Michael nodded and tapped the 'Regular' sign, holding up two fingers.

"Heard you're not talking much now." Julio raised an inquiring eyebrow and Michael obligingly pulled down the bandanna. The other man whistled. "That must have been nasty." He said and Michael nodded. "Want them wrapped up?" Michael tapped the 'Regular' sign and nodded again. "Gotcha. Drink?" Julio nodded toward the dispenser and Michael stepped over to it, pulling out a soda. He thought about grabbing a couple for Frankie and Margaret but he had enough to carry.

The little man sucked in his breath. "Trouble at ten o'clock." He murmured, tipping a pan just enough for Michael to see the reflection of three security officers moving toward them. He closed his eyes in despair then opened them again, waiting.

"Garibaldi!" The first man's voice was purposely loud and Michael barely kept himself from wincing. He carefully set the bottle on the food stand, aware that a number of people were staring at him. "Finally crawl out of your hole?" The voice jeered.

Michael didn't react, something that obviously made the other angry. A hand jerked his hood back and this time he did flinch as his face was exposed. He refused to look around, refused to see the eyes staring at him.

"Hey!" The little man said sharply and Michael gave him a 'keep out of this' look. "You mind? I'm dealing with a customer."

The security officer scowled at him. "You know who this is?" He demanded.

"Yeah. A paying customer. Something you're not."

Michael's eyes narrowed as he processed that and his jaw tightened in anger.

"Be glad you can set up and get customers." There was a clear threat in the officer's voice. The little man didn't look impressed as he poured the filling onto the tortilla, wrapping it up deftly. One of the officers reached for it and Julio slipped it to one side and into a warmer.

"Hand it over. Judas here won't want it." The officer jeered. Reaching over, he jerked Michael around hard and shoved him back against the wall. Michael didn't resist and this seemed to make the three men angrier. He didn't bother looking around; he knew this stall was at the end of the Zocalo and all there was to one side of him was an empty corridor. "I'm surprised you bother serving him. Maybe we should rethink your vendor's license until you choose your clientèle better."

This made Michael's eyes narrow dangerously. Threatening him was one thing, threatening someone for just being nice to him was another. But Julio seemed unconcerned as he fixed another burrito.

"I think your boss would disagree with that." He said calmly.

"And who's going to tell him?" The officer jeered. "You? Judas here sure as hell can't."

"He doesn't need to be told." Julio wrapped the finished burrito. "He's standing behind you."

Michael raised his eyes, looking over the now frozen security officer's shoulder, relieved to see that Zack was indeed standing there, his arms crossed, his expression angry.

"_Hola_, chief." Julio said cheerfully. "Care for lunch?"

"Not at this time, thanks." His voice was cold. "You three, get your asses to the station house."

"But Chief, we were just -" One of them started.

"Now!" Zack's voice cracked like a whip and the three men slunk away.

Michael wanted to tell him that those three were trouble, even started reaching for the texttyper then stopped. Security was Zack's problem now. Automatically he reached up to replace his hood then hesitated, finally realizing that few people were looking at him. To hell with it. He pushed the hood fully down.

"I don't like your men harassing my customers." Julie was saying. "I put up with the freebies but ..."

"Freebies?" Zack said sharply, tearing his eyes from the retreating men to stare at Julio. "What?"

"Sure. That - whoever the hell he is - comes around a couple times a week. 'Nice spot you got. Wanna keep it? I'll have a double regular.' That I can handle."

Michael hid a smile, reflecting that Julio was a clever man.

"I'll deal with it." Zack said through clenched teeth. After a quick glance at Michael, he spun on his heel and walked from the Zocalo.

"Maybe that will get rid of those assholes." Julio pulled out the first burrito and offered it to Michael. He took it gratefully, opening the soda and leaning against the wall to eat. "The people you brought in are good people but these people coming in now -" Julio shook his head. "I don't know. I think Earth is dumping their rejects on us. Not that Zack can do much about it. First thing they did - EarthForce - was insist that all the Narns be let go. Biggest mistake."

Michael frowned. He hadn't been out of Downbelow since the day he arrived and only now was realizing he hadn't seen any Narn security officers.

"Ah, well." Julio wrapped the second burrito and slipped both into a bag. Michael handed him his identicard. Finishing the soda, he set the bottle into the return box and took back the identicard, slipping it into his pocket. Picking up the bag, he started to walk away. "Hey!" Julio called out and Michael paused, looking back. "Don't be a stranger."

Michael bit his lip, feeling the swell of grateful tears in his eyes. He blinked them back then nodded, saluting the man with the bag.

#

The last person Stephen Franklin expected to see in his Medlab was Michael Garibaldi. No, that was wrong. He did expect to see him but only as a patient. Or maybe a corpse. Not striding in on his own two feet, duster slapping his legs as he walked toward the room where Hobbs was examining the boy from Downbelow.

"What is it, Doctor?" G'Kar asked, turning to look as well.

The angle gave them a clear sight into the room and they watched as Garibaldi dug an orange from his pocket, tossing it to the grinning boy. His mother gave Garibaldi an exasperated look and shook her head, not in denial but in wonder. Garibaldi grinned and offered her a bag. She took it, peered inside then smiled up at the man, obviously thanking him.

"I'd heard he was back." G'Kar said quietly.

"Yeah. Apparently he's living Downbelow." Franklin deliberately turned his back on the man. "So no discomfort with the new eye?" He asked.

"What? Oh. No. No discomfort." He looked at the eye Franklin was currently examining, "The color ..."

"It's being worked on. The next eye should be the correct color."

"Ahh. Good. It's a little disconcerting when I look in the mirror." He looked back to where Garibaldi was leaning against the wall, listening as the two women talked. The boy had peeled the orange and was now messily eating the slices. After a moment, Garibaldi looked around, freezing when he met G'Kar's eye. A flurry of emotions crossed his face; despite his time among humans, G'Kar couldn't identify them all. The man abruptly looked away and walked over to a sink. Wetting a towel, he walked over to offer it to the boy, who clumsily washed his face.

The boy's mother rose and Garibaldi stepped forward to pick up the equipment that the boy was attached to. Settling it on his back, he reached down to gently pick the boy up, shifting him to rest comfortably in his arms. The mother took a bag Dr Hobbs offered her and the trio walked for the door.

"Doctor, I just recalled an appointment. Do you mind if we take this up tomorrow? Thank you." G'Kar snatched back his eye and was out the door before Franklin could protest.

Once out the door, he popped the eye back in and started after the trio. Dimly he could hear the woman speaking. She seemed to be approving the fact that Garibaldi wasn't using the hood on his duster any longer. Garibaldi simply nodded and G'Kar was reminded of the other rumor he had heard, that the man was now mute.

"G'Kar."

G'Kar jumped and whirled on his bodyguard. "Keep it down!" He glanced ahead but Michael didn't seem to have heard.

"What are you doing?"

"Never mind. Just follow them and tell me where they are going." He gestured.

Ta'Lon looked at who he indicated and his body tensed. "That's -"

"Yes, it is." It suddenly occurred to G'Kar that Ta'Lon and Sheridan were friends. "And no, you may not kill him. Or harm him in any way. That is an order. Follow them and find out where he is staying. Understood?"

Ta'Lon scowled. "Yes. Understood." He slipped off after the trio.

#

Michael got that unmistakable itch between his shoulder blades that said he was being followed but he ignored it. Probably one of Zack's people or maybe Lochley's. He'd heard stories about Lochley from Bo and Mack and while they tended to be way too glowing, it did give him an idea of what the woman was like. It wouldn't surprise him if she was trying to keep an eye on him.

He stepped into the first room of the tiny two-room apartment Margaret and her son shared, moving to set Frankie gently on his bed. Undoing the equipment, he set it next to the boy, making sure all the connections were clear and working before straightening. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the bag of oranges. Pulling one out for himself, he set the bag on a table nearby.

"Michael." Margaret sighed and he smiled at her, dropping the orange he had kept into his pocket. Pulling out the texttyper, he spelled out a message and showed it to her.

_#I'll work on the wheelchair.#_

She smiled. "Thank you. For everything."

"Yeah. Thanks, Mike." Frankie said sleepily and Michael smiled at the boy.

_#Good night.#_

"Good night."

Michael stepped from the apartment, glancing around quickly. He spotted no one who shouldn't be there and he shrugged. Maybe he was just overreacting. Turning, he walked toward the area known as the Monastery. Not a real monastery, of course. Just a set of rooms used by the monks, including the area known as the Chapel. Stepping into the large room, he looked around. Half of the room was devoted to rows of pews, the other half was an open eating area/work room. Doors leading into the small cells that the monks lived in were set at regular intervals along the walls. A larger room, used as an office, was at the pew end of the room and it was from there Brother Theo was emerging.

"Michael! How was Frankie's appointment?" The older man said with a smile, his eyes twinkling and Michael couldn't help but smile back.

_Fine. _He mouthed back, stripping off his duster and draping it over a chair, looking over at the wheelchair half dissembled in the back of the room.

"I hope you're not planning on working on that tonight." Brother Theo sighed at the look Michael gave him. "I happen to know you have been up for sixteen hours." He said firmly. "Trying to fix that. If you try to work on it now, you will make mistakes. Get some sleep and work on it in the morning."

Michael hesitated, reflecting that the older man was right.

"You have been spreading yourself too thin, Michael. It will help no one if you fall ill. In fact it would be a big pain." He smiled at the look the other man gave him. "This is from someone who nursed you through that knife wound, remember?"

Michael bit his lip and nodded. _I owe you for that. _He mouthed.

"You have repaid all of us a hundred times over. Now go. Get some sleep." Brother Theo shooed him away.

Michael gathered up his duster and walked into the cell he was using. It was small, barely big enough for the mattress on the floor and a footlocker but that was all he needed now. Hanging the duster from a hook in the wall, he pulled the orange from the pocket and breathed in the aroma, smiling. He set it on the footlocker and pushed the door half closed. Stripping down to his underwear, he pulled on a pair of sweats to sleep in. Dropping onto the mattress, he kicked the door fully closed and pulled up the blanket. There was no light in the room itself, only what crept in under the door. He'd thought more then once of getting a lantern or wiring in some light but he only slept here.

Rolling onto his side, he pulled the pillow closer and went to sleep, hoping the nightmares would not come that night.

#

Ta'Lon stepped from the shadows, pondering what he'd seen and heard then slipped away, heading for G'Kar's quarters.

"Interesting." The older Narn paced his quarters then paused as he remembered ...

"_G'Kar, if you go back, the Centauri will kill you. You know it. I know it._

"_If I didn't know better, I might think you were genuinely concerned."_

"_I'm not. This is strictly a security matter. I have no personal stake in this either way."_

_:They look at each other; both know he is lying:_

"_G'Kar ... too many people in my life have died. I don't want to add any more to the list. Just ... don't do it, okay?"_

Shaking his head to clear it, he resumed pacing. "So he is with the monks?"

"Why is this important?" Ta'Lon asked. "He betrayed Sheridan! His commanding officer. He deserves to die!"

G'Kar stopped, staring at the wall then turning to face the other Narn, his face resolute. "After the Centauri invaded our world, Garibaldi came to me. He had heard that I was buying weapons and sending them home. He told me that I was not to bring those weapons through the station; he would not allow it. What else could I do? I promised him I would not. As he rose to go, he set a data crystal on the table. He had a friend who ran a transfer point near a jumpgate and that friend would make it a point not to notice a few more boxes coming through. At no charge."

He turned, pacing the room, still talking. "Then you came, with Na'Far and I volunteered to go home. I was here packing when Garibaldi came in. He'd heard that I was returning home and he was here begging that I not go. Begging me to stay! He'd lost too many people in his life, he said. He didn't want to lose another."

He turned back toward Ta'Lon. "When I had to return to Narn concerning Lord Refa, I went to Garibaldi for help. When I told him that it was I who needed to go, his first thoughts were not to why or even how. It was that I was still wanted there and I would be shot on sight." He paused. "And now I wish to know what happened. Why it happened. Why he is here." He moved to stand in front of Ta'Lon. "Michael Garibaldi was my first friend who was not a Narn and I find that I miss that friendship very much." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I find I miss him very much."

Leaving Ta'Lon to ponder his words, he walked over to his desk and wrote a quick note, folding it. "Take this to Brother Theo. Without Mr. Garibaldi seeing you, if possible."

Ta'Lon took the note slowly, finally nodding. "I will take it now."

"Thank you." G'Kar watched him leave before turning to the book resting reverently on a lectern. His own book, the original, was resting on his desk and he patted it absently before speaking his last statement to the empty room. "And perhaps I need to ease my own guilt for not finding him before whatever it was that changed him so could occur. And for not being a better friend afterwards."

#

Brother Theo looked around the dimly-lit chamber with interest. He'd never been in a Narn's quarters before. It was - volcanic in nature and he smiled at the thought. At one time, G'Kar himself could have been described by that term.

He spotted the book on the lectern and stepped closer, peering at it with pleasure. "Ahhh, the Book of G'Quan. Michael told me of it. And what he remembered of its contents. Which is actually quite a bit. He was very impressed by it."

"Yes. I lent it to him, back in the war with the Shadows. Tea?"

"Yes, please." Brother Theo moved to the table, settling in the chair across from G'Kar. He was pleased at G'Kar's response to his mention of Michael and hoped that this would go well.

"It's green tea with jasmine. I've grown quite fond of it. And these." He waved a hand at a plate of pastries before sitting down. "The breads of my world are hard. Very good but hard. These are different yet very good."

Each of them took a pastry and sat quietly for a moment, enjoying the repast.

"I'm sure, Brother Theo, you are wondering why I asked you to come." G'Kar took a sip of tea, looking at the monk.

"I believe I can guess but please." He gestured with the last bite of pastry.

G'Kar paused before setting down his cup. "What happened to Mr. Garibaldi? Why did he betray Sheridan? Do you know?"

"Yes, I do." Brother Theo set down the pastry and folded his hands. "When Michael first came Downbelow, he was empty. No hope, no anger, no nothing. Shortly after he came down, he was stabbed. Nothing to do with the Earth situation. It was robbery, plain and simple. He refused to go to Medlab; we took care of him. Nursed him back to health. While he healed, he started to write in a journal he had. Everything that happened and why."

G'kar twitched at that and Brother Theo smiled.

"As he wrote, as he released those words, he ... I guess you could say he healed. He became alive again, as if he had cleaned out a very badly infected wound and it was at last mending. When he was finished, he gave the book to me. He wanted someone to know what really happened and why. Not an excuse, mind you. An explanation. But it was taken under the seal of the confessional. Which means I cannot speak of it."

"But people have a right to know!" G'Kar protested.

"And they will, when the time is right."

"And who decides when that time is?"

Brother Theo fingered the sleeves of his robe, a nervous habit he just couldn't get rid of. Lacing his fingers together firmly, he met G'Kar's mismatched eyes, choosing his words carefully. "Michael has come to terms with what happened, what he did, and why it happened. What really caused it. What he needs now is for others to ... to come to terms with him."

"That won't be easy."

"It never is."

G'Kar frowned, shaking his head. "Mr. Garibaldi was my friend -"

"Was?" Brother Theo interrupted softly and G'Kar stopped dead, his mind racing.

"I ... I would like very much for him to still be my friend." He finally said.

Brother Theo felt a surge of elation though none of it showed on his face. He spoke quietly. "I can tell you nothing of what he has told me but I can give you my own observations, based on years of experience with people. The man Downbelow - that man is the man we all knew before he disappeared. He is not the angry, alienated man who was returned to us."

G'Kar's chin came up, his eyes narrowing at the monk's wording. Brother Theo watched the expressions flitting across the Narn's face and was satisfied.

"I ... see." It was G'Kar's turn to fold his hands. "So you suggest ..." He paused, considering what he was about to say. It was with a sense of fulfillment that he finished that sentence. "So you suggest that I be his friend."

"I think you already are." Brother Theo responded.

G'Kar blinked then slowly smiled. "Yes. Yes, I think ... no, I know I am. Thank you, Brother Theo. I truly appreciate this talk we have had." He offered the plate of pastries to the man and he took one with a smile. "If you would like to borrow the Book of G'Quan, do let me know. You will need a translator."

"Michael has one. I can borrow it from him."

For some reason, the knowledge that Michael had kept the translator pleased G'Kar.

#

It wasn't until two days later that G'Kar found the time to go Downbelow. He kept his book with him through two meetings, tapping it lightly with his fingers as he listened to first one speaker and then another, nodding approval to one and shaking his head to the other. Duties done, he gathered up his book and stepped from the room, Ta'Lon behind him.

"Are you sure you wish to do this?" Ta'Lon asked.

"Yes. Without a doubt. So lead on."

Ta'Lon sighed and took the lead, walking to Downbelow and toward the Monastery. Despite his anger at what Garibaldi had done, he had to confess that he was curious as well. He was so caught up that curiosity that at first he didn't realize how empty the corridor was. Once he did, he stopped dead, looking around cautiously, a hand on the hilt of his sword.

G'Kar didn't need to ask what was wrong. The area was silent, too silent. He settled the book bag more comfortably out of the way and moved to Ta'Lon's side. They waited, all senses alert.

The sound of running feet attracted their attention and they stepped shoulder-to-shoulder, ready for an attack. They weren't ready for the frightened human woman who rounded the corner and bounced off G'Kar's chest. He reached out to steady her.

"What is it?" He asked sharply and the woman, who obviously had been preparing to scream, stopped, blinking. She seemed relieved to realize they were Narns.

"They're killing him!" She stammered. "Michael. They ..."

G'Kar released her. "Go find security. Send them here." He started past her.

"But some of them are security!"

That stopped G'Kar briefly. "Then find better security!" This time he took off running, Ta'Lon right on his heels.

They came upon the scene so abruptly the five men beating Michael were too startled to respond. G'Kar grabbed the nearest man and slammed him into the wall, putting him to the ground with a single hard blow. Ta'Lon took another one out with a double strike, one to the stomach and another to the face as he doubled over. The remaining three men wavered, startled, giving G'Kar a chance to charge through them to the man curled up on the floor against the wall.

He looked down quickly, seeing the blood pooling around the still body and his jaw clenched. Spinning around, he kept himself between the attackers and the injured man. "Five against one. Hardly fair odds." He said scornfully.

"Sheridan's odds were even worse." One of the men, one wearing civvies, shot back.

"So that makes this right?"

The two men wearing security uniforms wavered, glancing at each other but the first man shot them a stern look. "This has nothing to do with you. Just get the hell out of here before we run you in for interfering with a security operation."

G'Kar's eyes narrowed as he realized the man didn't know who he was. "I don't think so. I think we will wait here for more security to arrive and then we will see what your chief has to say."

"You don't want that."

"Wrong. _You_ do not want that." G'Kar heard Michael stir at his feet and he felt a surge of relief. "Stay still, Michael." He ordered.

The man's eyes narrowed. "Friend of yours? Well. Jackson, Nickols. You got the weapons. Take care of these two while we take care of the Judas." He glanced at the other two men in civvies. One was still on the ground; the other was climbing slowly to his feet.

One of the security officers gave him a stricken look. "But ..."

"Just do it! We'll shove the bastard out an airlock. Sheridan will thank us."

"I don't think so." The woman's voice came from the same corridor the Narns had come down. Three security officers now stood there, their weapons drawn and leveled at the men. "Jackson, Nickols. Drop your weapons. Now."

Jackson blinked. "Wait a minute, Jaster. This is an undercover operation."

"Give me a break! Stevens and his two friends have been suspended!" Jaster snapped back. G'Kar recognized her as a long-time resident of the station, one of the original security officers. "Now drop the damn weapons!"

Thankful that help had finally arrived, G'Kar dropped to a knee next to the injured man. Michael's eyes were open but unfocused; one was starting to swell shut. Blood streamed from a gash on his head and G'Kar pulled the bandanna from the man's neck, pressing it against the wound. Behind him, Jaster was contacting Medlab and then Zack.

"You always were too fond of Garibaldi." Stevens jeered but the woman ignored him as she keyed her link.

"Chief, got a problem down here. Three suspended officers and two on duty. Claim they're on an undercover operation."

"Like hell!" Allan's voice came back hard. "There aren't any undercover operations going on right now."

Jackson and Nickols blanched, shooting disbelieving looks at Stevens.

"Bring them all into the station house." Allan ordered.

"More serious than that, Chief. Got a man badly beaten in Downbelow." There was silence for a moment. "And witnesses."

"Good ones?"

"Finest kind. The Narn Ambassador and his bodyguard."

It was Stevens turn to blanch and he shot a look at G'Kar. G'Kar glowered back then looked up as a medical team appeared. Rising, he stepped to one side, watching as the team went to work.

"Will he be all right?" A timid voice asked from behind him and he turned to see the woman standing there, her arms wrapped around herself.

"I don't know." He paused, seeing the fear in her eyes. Not fear of him but fear for Michael. "I will go with him and send word back to Brother Theo as soon as I know something. Could you inform him of what has happened?"

"Yes. I will." The woman tentatively smiled. "Thank you." She vanished into the shadows. He looked around, now seeing that observers were appearing from hiding and sighed. He couldn't blame them for not intervening; at least one of them had gone for help.

"Ambassador." Jaster was next to him. "We'll need a statement."

He glanced at the medical team, seeing that they were preparing to move Michael. "I will be at the Medlab. Feel free to come by and I will give you a statement."

Jaster followed his eyes and he was glad to see only sadness and concern in her eyes. "All right. Thank you."

G'Kar bowed to her and strode after the medical team, Ta'Lon on his heels.

#

Stephen Franklin looked up, lips thinning as his predication concerning Garibaldi finally came true then his jaw dropped when he saw an obviously concerned G'Kar follow the gurney in. He shook off his surprise and joined his team.

"On three!" He barked and on three, they moved the injured man to a table. "What do we have?"

As one of the paramedics rattled off a list of injuries, Stephen helped strip off Garibaldi's clothing, swearing at the sight of bruises obviously left by boots on his chest, stomach, and face. He barked out orders and concentrated on his work, ignoring who he was working on. Despite knowing what Garibaldi had done to make himself a pariah, he found himself angry at what had been done to him.

"Someone get a hold of Security!" he called out. "We need this tag removed!"

He was running a scanner over Garibaldi's badly bruised body when Zack appeared at his elbow.

"Jesus." He muttered at his first sight of the man's injuries. Zack reached for Garibaldi's arm but Stephen stopped him.

"Careful. His arm's broken."

"Again?"

Stephen stepped aside enough for Zack to gently remove the bracelet from the swelling wrist. Even so, he jostled the arm and Garibaldi stirred at the pain, his eyes blinking open. He looked around, his whereabouts obviously not registering.

"Put him under." Stephen ordered and a nurse moved to obey but not before Garibaldi met G'Kar's eyes through the clear divider. He stared into the Narn's eyes until the drugs overwhelmed him and his eyes closed.

#

G'Kar found himself pacing the floor, waiting irritably as the medical staff worked on Michael. Finally he forced himself to stand still, watching through the observation window.

"Oh, dear." Brother Theo's voice came from behind G'Kar and he turned to face the concerned monk. "How is he?"

"Alive." G'Kar said quietly.

The monk sighed. "It's a good thing you were passing by."

"Yes. I just wish we had gotten there sooner." He glanced around, finally spotting Ta'Lon standing guard outside the Medlab door. He smiled slightly and turned back to the activity in the other room.

Inside the room, Doctor Franklin was examining Garibaldi's hands with a frown. Setting them down, he spoke to his team, getting nods in reply. Pulling off his sterile gear, Stephen walked out of the room and toward G'Kar. Behind him, two interns moved Garibaldi to a bed.

"Brother Theo. I'm surprised to see you." Stephen said, thrusting the used gear into a bin.

"Michael has been living in the Monastery." Brother Theo explained. "He may not be one of my monks but he is, in a way, one of my flock. And there are people Downbelow who are concerned about him."

Stephen looked surprised at that, pondering it for a moment before looking at G'Kar.

"And you, G'Kar?"

"Merely helping a friend." G'Kar said bluntly. "How is he?"

Stephen looked even more surprised but didn't press. "He's been very badly beaten. His right arm is broken just above the wrist. Two broken ribs, three cracked, apparently from repeated kicks. Concussion. A gash on his head that required stitches. A great deal of internal bruising. We'll keep an eye on the concussion and for internal bleeding. Right now he's stable. We're pumping blood and meds into him. Hopefully we won't have to operate."

G'Kar looked past him to where the injured man had been moved.

"Thing that gets me is that he has no injuries to his hands." Stephen continued. "He didn't even try to fight back."

Brother Theo sighed. "I'm not surprised." He met G'Kar's inquiring eyes. "I don't believe he's ready to fight back yet."

"What?" Stephen started but G'Kar merely nodded.

"May I sit with him?" The Narn asked.

Stephen looked at him in surprise. "Well, I suppose so. If you want to."

"Thank you." G'Kar stepped past him and over to where Garibaldi was. He paused briefly then stepped over to drag a chair next to the bed, settling into it to wait.

"Don't ask." Brother Theo advised when Stephen turned toward him, his mouth already open. "It's a long story. Please inform me of any changes in Michael's condition. Thank you."

Stephen watched the monk leave then turned to look at G'Kar. Shaking his head, he returned to what he had been working on.

#

Zack Allan walked toward the President's office, Cat Jaster on his heels. He didn't relish what he had to do but at least he would be doing it in the President's presence. He paused outside the door, looking at Jaster soberly. "You've been accepted into the Rangers, right? Just in case?"

She grinned at him. "Yeah. I've got my acceptance letter in a very safe place and I leave in two days."

"Right." Taking a deep breath, he activated the door chime. The door opened and the two security officers stepped in.

"Mr. President." Zack said formerly then glanced at the two women present. "Ambassador Delenn. Captain Lochley."

"Zack." President Sheridan greeted him with a smile. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes. I have to dismiss five security officers." He said bluntly. "I think we should deport them as well."

The Captain shook her head, frowning. "I told you that you left too many of Garibaldi's people on the payroll." She said.

Zack's lips thinned, wondering if she remembered he had once been one of Garibaldi's people. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but these are all new officers." he said in clipped tones. "Brought in from EarthForce over the last seven months." He turned back to Sheridan. "They were shaking down merchants in the Zocalo for freebies and a couple hours ago, they beat someone up."

"Who?" Lochley demanded and Zack stiffened. He'd hoped that question wouldn't come up.

"Garibaldi, ma'am. He's in Medlab." Zack kept his eyes on the President and was surprised to see concern flash through his eyes. A moment later, it was gone as he remembered what Garibaldi had done.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "I see. I assume you will be deporting him as soon as he is able to travel."

Zack looked at her in surprise. "No, ma'am."

"Excuse me?"

"He hasn't done anything to be deported for."

Surprise flashed in the woman's eyes. "He's obviously causing trouble!"

"No, ma'am. He isn't." Zack corrected, aware of Jaster shifting from foot to foot next to him, her eyes narrowed with anger. She had been with Garibaldi since the man had first come to the station and despite everything, obviously still cared. "The men who attacked him were causing the trouble. They waylaid Garibaldi and beat him senseless. He didn't even try to defend himself." He saw her disbelieving look. "We have witnesses."

"Downbelow residents, I suppose." She said dismissively then added. "Are you planning on taking their word over five EarthForce officers?"

"No, ma'am. I'm taking the word of Ambassador G'Kar and his bodyguard Ta'Lon, as well as two of Brother Theo's monks." He felt a stab of satisfaction at the look that crossed her face. "Not to mention maybe a dozen different respectable Downbelow residents that witnessed the incident." He glanced back at Sheridan, who was rotating a pen in his hands, his eyes thoughtful.

"I don't believe this! We have a reason to get him off the station and you're arguing with me! Delenn." She turned toward the Minbari woman in appeal. "Help me out here!"

Delenn compressed her lips, looking toward her husband. He glanced at her and shook his head.

"He hasn't given us a reason to deport him, Captain." He corrected. "He hasn't done anything illegal. We can't deport him just because we have a personal problem with him."

"Excuse me?"

"If we deported people we considered problems, both G'Kar and Londo would have been deported less than a week after I arrived here. Actually less than an hour."

That made Delenn chuckle. "How true." She turned toward Lochley. "As much as we may dislike having him here, we can't change our laws just to rid ourselves of him. As long as he has done nothing wrong then he may stay."

Zack relaxed. Not that he cared about Garibaldi but deporting him without due cause would have set a bad _precedent_. "I'd like to suggest rehiring the Narns for security." He said bluntly, even though he knew what Lochley was going to say.

"Absolutely not." She said firmly. "EarthForce provides the security."

"Actually we've been discussing the security situation with Earth." Sheridan cut in. "Seeing as this is a multi-species station and that the Alliance is in the process of buying Babylon 5, it has been decided that security should be handled by a force that includes members of every species." Zack felt a surge of elation while Lochley gaped at the President. "The consensus is that security will be put under the authority of the Interstellar Alliance as of now." He turned apologetically to Lochley. "That's why I called this meeting, to inform you." He explained then he turned back to Zack. "And that's the gist of our meeting in an hour. Since you're already here, you might want to have a seat and we'll discuss it now."

"Yes, sir." Zack moved to sit down. "Jaster, head back to the station house."

"Yes, sir!" Jaster spun on her heel and left. Zack suspected she was holding back laughter until the door closed but he didn't care.

"We'll add Narns back into the security force first." Zack said earnestly to Sheridan. "They already have the experience we need and it'll be easy to integrate them. Just five of them for now, to replace the men we're losing. Then I'll meet with each Ambassador about adding two to five of their people to the force. Of course, they'll have to meet certain requirements and most of them will need on the job training but we can handle it."

"It sounds as if you already have a plan for this." Lochley said curtly.

"Yes, ma'am. Our previous chief had worked up a plan for bringing members of the other species into the force after we broke from Earth." Zack said with no hesitation. He turned to Delenn. "I'd like to start with the Minbari. And as much as I'd love to have Rangers in the force, I think maybe we should keep them separate."

"I agree." Delenn smiled. "But may I recommend the Centauri first? To keep it from looking like favoritism?"

Zack hesitated then sighed. "Yeah, you're right." He didn't sound enthused about meeting with Londo. He grinned suddenly. "I'll just follow the route of rooms in the ambassador suites. That'll make it random." He glanced at Delenn and she nodded approval, smiling when she realized that would put the Centauri third and Minbari fifth. "Too bad Captain Ivanova isn't here. She is still the Drazi's Green Leader."

"By the time you reach the Drazi maybe she'll be here for a visit." Sheridan said and Zack grinned broadly.

"That would be great! Be nice to see her." He paused thoughtfully. "I'll send all of you a copy of the integration report as soon as I get back to the station house." He paused, half-expecting Lochley to protest the use of a plan made by Garibaldi but, to his relief, she remained silent. He rose and headed for the door.

#

Michael ached all over. He could swear that even his hair hurt. Luckily there wasn't much of it so at least that was less to hurt. Blinking the one eye not swollen shut open, he looked around, finally registering that he was in Medlab. He swallowed then winced, suspecting that he'd been kicked in the throat. Someone stirred next to him and he managed to roll his head, startled to see G'Kar sitting next to him, his feet propped on the bed.

"So! You are awake. I was beginning to wonder." The Narn glanced around, finally gesturing at someone. A moment later, Stephen Franklin appeared on his other side, his face professionally impassive as he ran an eye over his patient.

"Much pain?" He asked curtly.

Michael hesitated then nodded slightly, wincing at the explosion of pain that move brought on. He tried to raise his hands to his head and was surprised and alarmed to find them restrained.

"Your right arm's broken. All the tubes are in your left." Stephen adjusted an IV. "That should take care of the pain. The restraints are to keep you from accidentally yanking the tubes loose or knocking yourself out."

G'Kar chortled at that, crossing his arms across his chest. Michael gave him a look that did little good. He licked dry lips and tried to swallow, finally turning back to Stephen.

_Water?_ He mouthed. Stephen hesitated then stepped away, returning with a squeeze tube of water, allowing Michael just a couple sips.

"You can have more later. I'm hoping you don't need surgery but we need to be ready just in case." With that he turned and walked away, leaving Michael staring at his back. He knew he had no right to feel hurt at Stephen's actions but he still did. After a moment, he rolled his head to look inquiringly at G'Kar.

_What happened? _He mouthed. G'Kar currently interpreted his question.

"Ta'Lon and I came upon five people beating you senseless. Since you have need of what sense you may have left, we intervened."

Michael surprised himself by smiling. _Thank you. _He paused, amusement fading into seriousness. _But why?_

G'Kar studied him for a long moment. "When I was incarcerated for my attack on Londo, I wrote my book. You remember?" Michael nodded slightly. "And you asked if you could read it. I said when it is done." He reached down to pull the book from the bag, holding it up. He locked his eyes on Michael's. "It is done." He said quietly.

Michael blinked back sudden tears. _T__hank you._

"Don't thank me yet. It is still written in Narn." G'Kar looked around the mostly empty Medlab. "I suspect it will be a little while before you can read it yourself. Would you like me to read you a couple chapters?"

Michael smiled. _Yes, please._

#

Stephen studied the slide with a frown then moved to look at another. Well, that wasn't right ... he paused, startled by the sound of a low, melodious voice coming from where Garibaldi was. He looked up to meet his assistant's eyes and they both turned to look, surprised to see G'Kar reading from an open book in his hands. His book, the doctor realized. The Book of G'Kar.

He stepped over, walking quietly. Neither man seemed to notice him. Michael's eyes were half-closed as he listened; G'Kar was absorbed in his reading. Stephen considered putting a stop to this but could find no good reason to do so. For a long moment he listened then he walked back to his research, working quietly so that he could continue to listen.

#

_Two days later …_

At the sound of laughter, Stephen glanced toward Garibaldi's bed, surprised to see Mack and Bo talking to the man. Garibaldi had a smile on his face, his texttyper in one hand as he typed out a message with his thumb. Mack was reading what he wrote and chuckling.

"Sure, can do." Mack assured him. "Soon as our shift ends." All three looked up at Stephen's approach.

"Hey, doc." Bo straightened. "We're done with repairs." He nodded toward the wall, now neatly sealed. "Any other problems, just call."

"Sure. Ahhhh." He glanced at Garibaldi. "What's up?"

"What? Oh. Frankie's wheelchair." Bo explained as he picked up his tools. "Mike wasn't able to finish fixing it before he ended up here so he asked us to swing by and see if we can take care of it before the kid needs it again." He turned back to the man on the bed. "You know, I'm thinking we may just want to rebuild the whole thing. We'll see if we can find some proper parts."

Michael nodded and mouthed _Thanks_ then gestured the man over to read the message he's just typed.

"Yeah, sure. Can do. Don't worry about the cost. It'll be our good deed for the day."

"Uh? What?" Mack asked, looking up.

"Pick up a couple burritos from Julio's for Frankie and his mom." Bo explained as they left the Medlab.

"Oh, yeah. No problem. Later, Mike." The two men left, cheerfully bickering with each other.

Stephen watched them go, puzzled by their easy acceptance of Garibaldi. In fact, he'd been amazed by the number of his visitors. Most were from Downbelow but Julio from the Zocalo had turned up late yesterday and G'Kar was a regular visitor. To his surprise, Frankie's mother, a woman so timid she only came up for her son's appointments, had appeared, bringing Michael an orange before scurrying back home. Several of the monks had swung by and Brother Theo had brought Michael a change of clothes, his texttyper, and a Narn-to-English translator. Not that Garibaldi seemed to need the latter. Apparently he had taught himself Narn.

One of the more startling visitors had been a security officer. At first, Stephen had thought she was there for his statement concerning the attack but their talk had been too low and earnest for that. After almost an hour of talking on her part, Garibaldi had written out a note and given it to her. Only then had she left.

Shaking his head, Stephen turned back to his patient, who was once again reading the Book of G'Kar, his lips moving as he worked at translating the words. He cleared his throat and Garibaldi glanced at him then closed and set the book on the nearby chair. The doctor studied the wounds he could easily see, noting that his eye was less swollen but the bruising just as vivid, especially around the stitches high on his forehead.

"Can you remove your top?"

Even though it was clumsy with the cast, the man managed to remove the top and Stephen whistled at the sight of the bruises covering his chest and stomach.

"Congratulations. You've achieved coloring not normally possible for human skin tones." He said dryly and Garibaldi silently chuckled. "Where did this come from?' He lightly touched a healed scar on his right side.

_Knife. _Garibaldi mouthed.

"Hmmmm." Stephen shook off the urge to treat this man as he would have two years ago, reminding himself that he was no longer a friend. "I want to look at that throat wound."

Garibaldi obligingly raised his chin so that Stephen could more easily scan the scar. He frowned at the readings, reflecting that it should have killed the man. "Your medical records aren't complete. I see what treatments you've had but not who did them."

Garibaldi frowned and typed out a message, turning it so Stephen could read it. #_Don't want the people who helped me to be harassed.#_

After a moment's thought, Stephen nodded. "Fair enough."

Garibaldi relaxed, setting the texttyper back down.

"I want you to stay here one more day at least. I'll know for sure about releasing you tomorrow." The other man nodded and Stephen looked at the scar across his face. "You could get that fixed, you know."

Garibaldi shrugged then his eyes slid past the doctor and he smiled a welcome.

"Good morning, doctor!" G'Kar said cheerfully as he approached. "Still among the living I see, Michael."

"Yes." Stephen said slowly, startled to realize that G'Kar had called Garibaldi by his first name. He'd never done that before. Ta'Lon stayed by the Medlab door, moving to his regular post by it. Stephen got the impression he didn't fully approve of G'Kar having anything to do with the former security chief. "I was just saying he might be able to leave tomorrow."

"Ahhh, good. Having luck with the book?" G'Kar asked and Garibaldi held it up, showing that he was almost halfway through it. "Well, you have learned Narn." He looked at the message Garibaldi typed out. "Actually, yes I have. I have numerous requests from non-Narns for my book. Perhaps I will allow it to be translated." He paused then admitted. "Actually I think it would be wise for me to allow it before other species simply do it."

_Smart._ Garibaldi mouthed then offered him the book.

"Well, if you'd prefer that I read it ..." G'Kar was obviously flattered. "If it will not disturb anyone?" He looked at Stephen and the doctor hesitated. Spotting the hopeful looks of some of his staff, he gave in.

""Fine. Unless an emergency comes up."

"Of course." G'Kar settled into his chair, propping his feet on the bed. Garibaldi leaned back, staring at the ceiling as the Narn began to read.

#

Michael closed his eyes, letting G'Kar's rich voice flow over him. It was surprisingly soothing, like warm chocolate on a cold day. He smiled at the metaphor, wondering what G'Kar would make of it. For all the troubles he'd had since his disappearance ... he flinched from the memories then forced himself to confront them. For all those troubles and all the pain, he felt surprisingly content. Everything was coming together.

G'Kar's voice stopped and he opened his eyes, blinking in confusion.

"Captain." G'Kar said. "May I help you?"

Michael looked around, eyes settling on the woman in the EarthForce uniform near the foot of his bed. She was looking at G'Kar in blank-faced surprise.

"What are you doing here, Ambassador?" She demanded and the Narn stiffened.

"Visiting a friend." He said curtly in a tone that suggested it was none of her business. "And you?"

"I thought Sheridan was your friend."

"I am allowed more than one friend, Captain." He glanced at Michael, seeing the surprise on man's face and he smiled reassuringly.

"I can't help but think that John would not be happy with this, Ambassador." The woman said acidly.

"I am sorry to hear that. Yes, I realize that he and Michael have their problems ..."

"Problems! He ..."

"But!" G'Kar overrode her. "But it is entirely possible for a being to have friends that are enemies to each other. Michael proved that from day one, by being a friend to both Londo and I. Even when our species were at war." G'Kar paused suddenly, a thoughtful look in his eyes. He dug out a pad and a pen, scrawling quickly, lips moving.

"Ambassador ..." The Captain started but G'Kar waved her to silence.

Watching him, Michael began to laugh silently and G'Kar threw him a stern look.

"I can't help it if my muse is a persistent little thing." He wrote some more then leaned toward Michael to say in a confidential tone. "I've named her Esmeralda." It was odd to see someone laugh so hard without making a sound. From the way Michael gripped his ribs, it was obvious they were aching but he didn't seem to mind as he laughed.

Satisfied, G'Kar looked up at the astonished woman. "Notes for my second book." He explained. "Michael, I don't believe you've met Captain Lochley. I doubt she'll want to shake hands." The Narn returned to his writing.

"Ambassador, I'd like to speak with Garibaldi." Lochley said through clenched teeth.

"He's right there. Go ahead." G'Kar said absently.

"Privately."

That made G'Kar pause and look around then back at her. "We are in the middle of Medlab. I seriously doubt anyone could have a private conversation. I could go over there, I suppose, but I will still hear you. Michael, do you wish me to go?"

Michael shook his head firmly.

"Very well." G'Kar resumed his writing.

Lochley glared at him for a long moment then turned that glare onto Michael, obviously frustrated. After a moment, she spun on her heel, leaving Michael to look after her speculatively.

"What was that all about?" G'Kar asked, not looking up and Michael shrugged. Reaching for the texttyper, he typed a word and turned it so G'Kar could read it.

_#Friend?#_

G'Kar studied him for a long moment. There were no shadows in his eyes; they were open and friendly and clear of anger and suspicion. Granted, what hair he still had was now gray and the scar bisecting his face was new but in him G'Kar saw the man who had once stood in his quarters pleading with him not to return to Narn where he would surely be killed. He reached over to grip his arm firmly. "Yes, Michael. Friend."

Michael closed his eyes briefly then opened them to type again.

_#Thank you.#_

"Don't thank me yet. Being my friend is not always an easy task."

Michael smiled and typed another message. #_And being mine is an even harder task. Some would say impossible.#_

"Perhaps. But the finest of friendships sometimes must be fiercely fought for." He smiled and returned to his writing.

Michael watched him, thinking to himself. After a few minutes, he reached for the text-typer, typing out a message then waited for G'Kar to finish writing before showing it to him.

_#Could you take a message to Brother Theo?#_

"Of course. I'd be happy to."

Michael reached for a pad of paper and a pen, writing out a short message. Folding the paper, he offered it to the Narn, who tucked it into a pocket.

"I'll take it down after my meeting. Which starts -" He glanced at the time and jumped to his feet, thrusting the book to Michael. "Three minutes ago! I will see you later."

Michael laughed again, gasping a bit as his sore ribs protested.

#

G'Kar stepped into the Monastery, looking around with interest. Nearby he could see two maintenance men working on something he couldn't identify, arguing back and forth while two of the monks swept the floor and straightened items throughout the room. He approached one of the latter, greeting him politely.

"Where might I find Brother Theo?" He asked.

"I believe he is in the office." The brother responded, pointing toward a door on the other side of the room.

"Thank you."

He knocked lightly on the door, waiting for Brother Theo to look up and smile at him. "G'Kar!" He rose, gesturing him into the small room. "How nice to see you. How may I help you?"

"Michael asked me to bring you a message." He pulled it from his pocket and offered it to the monk.

"So you've been to see him?" Brother Theo sounded pleased as he unfolded the paper.

"Oh, yes. He seems to be doing well." G'Kar started for the door. "I won't take up your time."

Brother Theo looked up from reading the note, smiling in satisfaction. "G'Kar, wait." He glanced at the note again before setting it on the desk and reaching for the key he always carried with him. "Would you happen to have a spare hour?" He unlocked a desk drawer and reached inside.

"Well." G'Kar wavered. "I suppose I do. Why?"

"Because it will take you that long to read this." He held out the book he'd pulled from the drawer.

G'Kar stared. "Michael's book?" Brother Theo nodded and G'Kar looked down at the note on the desk then at the book as if it held the answers of the ages. Which, in a way, it did. Turning, he walked to the door, gesturing to Ta'Lon, who had been watching the workers. "Go to the Gaim Ambassador and give her my apologies. Ask if we can reschedule the meeting for tomorrow. Then come back here. Thank you."

Ta'Lon nodded and left.

"All I ask ... we ask ... is that you tell no one of the contents." He held up his hand to still G'Kar's protests. "There is a reason for it. I think you will understand once you have read this."

"But you do plan on telling everyone?"

"Eventually, yes. Trust me; there is a reason for this. Lives could depend on it. Perhaps even the future of this station."

G'Kar thought about it for a long moment then nodded. "Very well."

Brother Theo handed him the book and gestured toward the guest chair. G'Kar settled into it but didn't open the book immediately. Instead, he studied the book itself, finding it unremarkable in appearance. After a moment, he opened it and turned the pages until he reached the beginning. Taking a deep breath, he began to read.

_My name is Michael Alfredo Garibaldi and once I was a good man. Honest, loyal, hard-working (when I had work). For most of my life, my major problem was the bottle, drowning myself in liquor when life grew too hard. Then I came to Babylon 5 and my life changed. The station became my home, the people there - both human and alien - my dearest friends; some grew to be family. Even as we broke from Earth and readied for battle with the Shadows, I was surprisingly happy, even though I knew I could die any minute. I was fighting for causes I believed in at the sides of people I respected and loved, whose lives I treasured more than my own._

_Then came the day the Captain went to Z'ha'dum and the day I discovered that there were far worse things than dying …_

#

As Brother Theo worked at his desk he kept an eye on G'Kar, able to tell where he was in the book by his expression. He read slowly, sometimes going back to reread a passage then pausing to think before continuing so it was closer to two hours when he finally reached the end. Closing the book slowly, he looked up, anger blazing in his eyes.

"They can not get away with this." He grated and Brother Theo reflected that having a Narn angry at you was not a good thing.

"They won't, not if we have any say in it."

"Well! You have my help, for what good it may do." G'Kar rose and paced the small room. "If we told the others ..."

"No." The monk held up a hand to forestall G'Kar's protests. "There is no proof and few people would take Michael's word concerning what happened. It would sound as if he were making excuses and poor ones at that. And beside, it gives _them_ more minds to read. Only one other person has read that book - a former security officer." He said in answer to G'Kar's inquiring look. "She went to Michael, insisting that she knew something was wrong, that it wasn't truly his fault. He let her read it. She's since left the station to become a Ranger."

"Is that what he's waiting for? For people to come to him and ask for an explanation?"

"In part, yes. But mainly he is waiting for Bester to make the next move."

G'Kar paused in his pacing, setting the book on the desk slowly. "I see. He doesn't think Bester is through with him." He glanced at the book and surprised himself by shivering, remembering what he had read. "Well, neither do I."

Brother Theo nodded. "For the past several months, Michael has stayed under the radar. For all Bester knew, Michael was dead or drinking himself to death and I suspect the thought of either would make that bastard very happy. But now Michael has come out of hiding and Bester will undoubtedly hear about it. Now I believe things will begin to happen."

G'Kar stared at him for a long moment. "What do you think Bester will do when he finds out his puppet has cut his strings?"

The smile the monk gave him was surprisingly evil. "If we're lucky, he'll have a stroke. Otherwise, he will be showing up here."

G'Kar thought about it then he smiled as well, a smile just as evil.

#

They talked for what seemed like hours, though it was barely two. Brother Theo told G'Kar of Michael's suppositions and speculations then added his own as well as what they had already done and were planning to do. G'Kar mused over the information and gave his observations. Finally, feeling overwhelmed by it all, G'Kar rose to leave.

"If you are right, things will begin to happen soon and we must be ready." He said, moving to open the door. "I will think on this."

"Thank you. Oh, and G'Kar." Brother Theo pulled several envelopes from the drawer and searched through them until he found the one he wanted. "The book is, eventually, for everyone. Things everyone needs to know. But there were other things Michael needed to say to individual people. To take care of that, he wrote private letters." He offered the envelope to G'Kar.

G'Kar slowly took it, seeing his name written neatly on it, smiling when he realized it was written in Narn. "And he left everything with you, in case he didn't survive."

The other man simply nodded.

"Thank you." He opened the door, pausing at the sight of Ta'Lon over by Mack and Bo, arguing over the best way to repair the wheelchair. "May I tell Ta'Lon at least some of it? I will need his help and since he will be working with me and I with Michael, it would be best if he knew."

Brother Theo hesitated before nodding firmly. "As long as he vows to tell no one else."

G'Kar nodded and stepped from the office, walking over to watch the threesome work on the wheelchair. After a moment, he stepped in to help, adding his own suggestions.

"Oh Lord." Brother Theo sighed. "By the time they get done with that wheelchair, it will probably be able to climb the walls and fly." Shaking his head, he stepped back into his office.


	4. Part 3

"I'll have this ready in a moment." Captain Lochley finished the last of the report before looking at the man waiting patiently on the other side of her desk. "Sorry for the delay. We've been trying to adjust to the new way security is run."

"Yes, I'd heard the Alliance is now in charge of security." Ian Johnson pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Are they really adding aliens to the security force?"

"They are currently returning Narns to security and are working on adding members of the other species." She removed the data crystal and offered it to the man. "After that unfortunate incident concerning the replacement security officers, Mr. Allan has taken a stand on bringing in more people from EarthForce. Apparently he would prefer to use people already on the station." She frowned. "As did his predecessor."

Johnson looked alarmed. "I wouldn't think that would be a good thing."

"We're keeping an eye on it." Lochley assured him.

"And Garibaldi?" Johnson asked delicately.

Lochley's eyes turned icy. "Still on the station but no longer just in Downbelow. He's finally made an appearance and ended up in Medlab, beaten up pretty badly. The President insists on leaving him alone." She drummed her fingers impatiently on the desk. "I can't seem to get him to realize that the man's a danger every minute he's on this station."

Johnson looked thoughtful. "Has Garibaldi been approached by any of the anti-Sheridan factions?"

"Not that I know of. What's disturbing is that Ambassador G'Kar seems to have resumed his friendship with the man."

Johnson's eyes widened as he processed this information. "G'Kar has acquired a very strong following. If Garibaldi were to influence him ..."

"No." Lochley shook her head firmly. "G'Kar is strongly behind the President and the Alliance. But it does set a bad precedent."

Johnson looked as if he wanted to press then changed his mind. "The telepath problem ..." He started then paused. "Could Garibaldi have had a hand in that?"

Lochley snorted in disgust. "I seriously doubt it. When Ambassador G'Kar offered the telepaths hiding on the station sanctuary on Narn, Garibaldi was still cowering Downbelow. Probably drinking himself stupid."

"But telepaths are still coming through the station and escaping to Narn."

Lochley nodded tersely. She had orders to find out who was helping the rogue telepaths escape to the station but she was dragging her feet doing it. After all, once they reached the station there wasn't much she could do about it and to be honest her sympathies lie with the rogues in this case.

She couldn't help but smile briefly at the memory of Byron's face when Lyta had presented G'Kar's offer to the telepaths. While he claimed to have the best interest of the telepaths at heart, in reality Byron had wanted the drama of being a messiah or even a martyr and G'Kar's low-key solution had burst his bubble. _Narn needs telepaths and you need a home. _G'Kar had offered. _Come to Narn and we will find a planet you can colonize once you are ready. _The majority of the telepaths had eagerly agreed and a Narn transport had taken all of the telepaths who wanted to go away.

Now that security was run by the Alliance, the telepaths were considered safe once they reach the station; not even the PsiCops had authority over them once they were here. The President had been very firm about that and the Alliance had agreed.

"Any news on this new 'homeland' G'Kar has promised them?" Johnson asked.

"Yes, actually. Apparently there is a suitable planet currently claimed by the Gaim that was depopulated by the Shadows. The Narns are negotiating a deal for it. I haven't heard anything other then that."

"Interesting." Johnson glanced at the time. "My transport leaves in forty minutes." He rose and Lochley had to wonder again why EarthForce insisted on a courier to fetch her reports. "See you again in two weeks."

"Of course."

Johnson walked from the Captain's office and toward the transport, not noticing the Centauri who followed him to the docks, making sure he was on the shuttle out to the transport before making his way to a public comm system. Once there, he sent a quick 'alert' message to his contact on the transport to let them know Johnson was on his way and then a longer message to another contact on Earth. Once that was done, the Centauri returned to his studies.

#

Zack Allan stepped into the Medlab, stopping in surprise at the sight of G'Kar sitting next to Garibaldi, reading the texttyper. He'd heard the Narn was visiting Garibaldi regularly but hadn't really believed it. Guess he should have. He took a deep breath and walked over.

Garibaldi looked up as he approached. One of his eyes was still black and bruises were still starkly visible but his eyes were clear and steady and much more alive then when he'd first walked back onto the station. For a moment Zack saw the Garibaldi he'd known for so long in those eyes and he wavered.

G'Kar started to hand the texttyper back then realized Garibaldi's attention was elsewhere. He looked up. "Mr. Allan. May we help you?"

Zack paused briefly for a moment then he remembered what Garibaldi had done and his lips thinned. "Just taking care of some business." He held up the tag.

G'Kar looked pained. "Is that really necessary?"

Garibaldi rested a pacifying hand on the Narn's near arm and shook his head then held out his arm.

"Oh, very well." G'Kar said with a sigh, leaning back so Zack could step close and lock the bracelet back on the man's wrist. After making sure it was secure, he nodded to the Ambassador, turned on his heel and walked out, stopping at Stephen Franklin's gesture and walking to join him.

"Is that necessary?" The doctor asked. "I mean, you could have waited."

Zack shrugged. "Prefer not to. He could easily lose himself in the station." He hesitated, rocking back on his heels. "What amazes me is that he's allowing it."

"What?"

Zack looked back to see G'Kar earnestly talking with Garibaldi. Neither was paying any attention to them. Even so, he spoke in a low voice, "See, we don't have just cause to tag him. If he were to protest then I'd have to take the tag off. And you can bet he knows that."

Stephen frowned, wondering why the man was allowing it then he remembered something Brother Theo had said.

"_I don't believe he's ready to fight back yet." _

His eyed narrowed and he found himself wondering why Garibaldi would want to be tagged then he shrugged it off.

"When's he getting out of here?" Zack asked.

"Well, I'd hoped today but I don't like the way some of the tests are coming out so I'm going to keep him here another day."

Zack nodded then looked back at the two beings with their heads together. "See you later, doc."

#

"All right." G'Kar murmured. "I've spoken with the Abbai Ambassador and she's agreed to help. She thinks very highly of you. I will speak to the Brakiri Ambassador next. Hopefully he will also help. Shall I approach the Drazi and the Gaim?"

Michael shook his head. _Not yet._ He mouthed and G'Kar nodded. "All right." Before he could say more, Michael touched his arm lightly and G'Kar looked up to see Doctor Franklin walking toward them. "Doctor." G'Kar closed the texttyper and offered it to Michael. "I must be going. Will Michael be released today?"

"No, I don't think so." He looked at Michael. "It looks like you have an infection. I want you to stay another twenty-four hours."

"Mr. Allan was a little premature then." G'Kar said dryly. "I'll come by later."

Michael nodded, watching as G'Kar walked from the Medlab before looking back at Stephen.

"The infection's mild but your immune system seems to be out of whack and you're about twenty pounds underweight." He looked the other man over critically and shook his head. "If the infection clears up by morning then you can go. I'll have some medicines ready. Just make sure you take them and you eat better. For now, just rest."

Michael nodded again, reaching for G'Kar's book.

"I'm not sure reading Narn qualifies as resting." Stephen commented as he walked away.

Michael smiled, opening the book to where he had left off. It wasn't easy to read but it was very enlightening and it helped him understand why G'Kar was visiting him, accepting him despite what had happened.

#

"I do believe that is check and mate." Brother Theo said smugly and the man on the screen gaped in surprise.

"Again." The elegant silver-haired man sighed. He fingered the psi symbol on his lapel and shook his head. "You are very good."

Brother Theo smiled politely. "Another game?" He deftly reset the pieces on his chessboard. Like Jacob Markham, he liked to use an actual board to see the moves rather then use a computer program.

"Unfortunately no. I have a meeting in ten minutes." Markham paused, steepling his fingers.

"Have you thought of my invitation to come out to Babylon 5?"

"Several times but ... so much work. I will speak to you again in two days. Good-bye." Markham signed off and Brother Theo let his shoulders relax. Switching off the Babcom, he turned to the figure that had been standing quietly in the doorway for the past five minutes. "He's not a bad player but he is an impatient one. I have to throw every few games to keep him happy."

G'Kar stepped into the office and over to the guest chair, settling into it. "So that is the director of PsiCorp. He seems a pleasant person."

"He may very well be. I've been playing against him for years, always through the communication system. I believe I've almost have him convinced to come here. Just need to time it right. How's Michael doing?"

"Doctor Franklin wishes to keep him one more day."

"Hmmm. The rest will do him good. And Frankie has an appointment tomorrow."

"So we had better finish that wheelchair!" G'Kar said cheerfully as he rose and Brother Theo winced then quickly smiled. At least, he reflected, he was helping.

#

_The next day_

Michael flinched as Stephen prodded him lightly in the ribs.

"Still tender?" The doctor asked and he gave him a nasty look before nodding. "Well, the infection's cleared up." Stephen looked at the scanner's readings. "And the ribs are healing. The cast should be able to come off in a few days." He looked at Michael critically. "How do you feel?"

He hesitated then shrugged._ All right._

Stephen looked at him for a moment then reached for a couple of vials, setting them on the table next to him. "Antibiotics and painkillers. Take the antibiotics for three more days and the painkillers as you need them. If you need more, let me know."

_Thanks_. Michael reached for his shirt and eased it carefully over the cast and then the rest of the way on. As he pulled it down, he looked up and froze, his face working.

Stephen quickly followed his eyes to see John and Delenn standing in the outer room. He stifled a curse and turned back to Michael, who was looking down, face taunt as he slipped the meds into his breast pocket. The doctor bit back the harsh words he wanted to say and signed the release form. "Sign." He said curtly and Garibaldi took the stylus, signing his own name. "Take the medicine and eat better. I'd prefer you didn't end up back here."

A muscle twitched in Michael's cheek and he nodded, still not looking up. He looked pale, the scars standing out starkly as he pressed his hand to his right side. After a moment he slid from the table and gathered his stuff together.

#

John Sheridan studied Michael Garibaldi with narrowed eyes, his jaw tense, not surprised that the other man was avoiding his eyes. He found himself studying the ugly scar visible on the man's face, standing out starkly against the pallor of his skin. It looked to have been drawn there with brutal intent, meant to hurt and to maim before the knife was plunged with savage intent into his throat, where an even uglier scar could be seen.

He started when Delenn put her hand gently on his arm. "We could ..."

John was already shaking his head. "I'm not about to spend my life avoiding him. Due to happen sometime. Might as well be now."

Delenn smiled slightly then lost the smile as she looked back into the other room. Garibaldi was gathering up a duster, a book bag, and other items in preparation to leaving the Medlab. She was trying to think of an excuse to get her husband to go into another room when she became aware of a thrumming sound behind her and a sudden tug on her skirts.

"Oh!" She jumped and looked down, laughing as she pulled her skirts back. At her feet was a small motorized cart, the little boy in it grinning up at her.

"Sorry." The boy said. "I don't quite have the steering down yet."

"Frankie, you must slow down." G'Kar said as he hurried into the Medlab, Ta'Lon on his heels. "Thank G'Quan we locked those other two speeds. Mr. President. Ambassador."

"What an interesting vehicle." Delenn commented.

"Yeah. My wheelchair kept breaking so G'Kar and Ta'Lon built this." He began to slowly back the cart up.

"Frankie!" G'Kar looked alarmed as he stepped out of the way. "You are supposed to say Bo and Mack built it."

"They said to say you and Ta'Lon built it and they offered me three oranges and a burrito!" The boy declared.

"Heh!" G'Kar said to no one in particular. "I've been outbid by a burrito." He paused. "What is a burrito anyway?"

"A mixture of vegetables and meat in a flat bread wrap." John explained with a smile.

"Ahhh. Actually that sounds quite tasty."

"Hey, Mike!" The cart zipped forward and John turned to see the boy stop neatly in front of Garibaldi, now standing in the doorway. "Ain't it cool?"

Garibaldi raised an eyebrow, shooting G'Kar a look before setting what he was carrying on a nearby counter and carefully lowering himself to one knee to examine the cart more closely.

"It's totally self-contained. Very easy to maintain and to repair. The power source will last for years. Don't ask me where it came from. I suspect it had a little help." G'Kar mimed a sideways kick with his foot. "Falling off a shuttle. There are actually four speeds but the faster two are currently locked."

"Yeah! That ain't fair!" Frankie complained and Garibaldi rapped his knuckles on the cart, looking at the boy sternly. "Isn't fair!" He corrected and the man nodded, reaching out to rumple the boy's hair.

Garibaldi looked up at G'Kar, mouthing. _Whose idea?_

"We were in the Chapel at the time. We're marking it down to divine inspiration."

Garibaldi smiled._ So it's God's fault._

G'Kar humphed. "That is our story and we are sticking to it. Frankie, see if you can back into the exam room." He gestured toward the room where Dr. Hobbs was watching in bemusement. "Ta'Lon will help you up on the table."

"Okay!" Frankie carefully backed up, not bothering with the mirrors.

"He is actually very good controlling the cart." G'Kar commented. "We have made the controls as easy to handle as possible." He strolled forward and offered Garibaldi a hand. The man obviously welcomed the help as he straightened, pressing his hand briefly against his right side.

"Ribs still giving you a problem?"

The man nodded as he searched the duster briefly, finally pulling out a texttyper. G'Kar read as he typed.

"His mother isn't feeling well. She believes she has something called the flu. I volunteered to take Frankie for the day and for tonight. One of the monks will be coming up to help out before bedtime."

"Where is she?" Stephan asked sharply.

"Resting in her quarters."

"Well, if she does have the flu then Frankie should stay away. I'll go down and check her out." Stephan started to turn, pausing as G'Kar spoke up hastily.

"Doctor, may I recommend that Ta'Lon escort you." He added before Stephan could protest. "Especially if you are planning on taking medicine. Plus he knows the way."

Stephan hesitated then sighed. "All right. I'll be ready in a few minutes." He stepped back into the other room.

"By the time they get back, Frankie should be done with his appointment. Michael, would you mind ..." He read the message Garibaldi had already typed. "Thank you. I have a meeting in ten minutes and I must be off to it."

To the Sheridans' surprise, the Narn took the duster Garibaldi had set on the nearby counter and helped the man into it, help he obviously needed because of the cast and the stiffness with which he moved. For a moment it looked like he meant to slap the man's back but remembered in time and gripped his left shoulder instead. "Margaret says not to help him with his homework. Apparently every time you do, his grades drop." He said it loud enough for the boy to hear and Frankie burst out in giggles.

_Hahaha._ Garibaldi mouthed back, typing something into the texttyper and showing it to G'Kar. The Narn read it then glared at him.

"Hehehe." He said back before pulling a hand-held game from a pocket. "Margaret sent this along to keep him occupied." He set it on the counter. "Or maybe to keep you occupied. She was mumbling by that time. Now if you'll excuse us." He bowed politely to the Sheridans and stalked over to speak quickly to Ta'Lon before leaving the Medlab.

Garibaldi shook his head, dropping the texttyper back into the duster pocket before reaching for the bag, pulling the strap over his head and settling it comfortably against his side. Picking up the game, he started toward the room Frankie was in, pausing abruptly when Delenn moved into his path.

She expected him to avoid her eyes and was surprised when he meet them without flinching. For a moment she was angry at the lack of guilt or shame in his eyes then her anger wavered as she realized what else she didn't see in his eyes. The angry suspicion and distrust that had been all she'd seen for that fateful year were gone. His eyes were clear and open to her and what she read in them confused her.

"Hey, Mike!" Garibaldi broke eye contact and looked inquiringly toward the boy. After a moment, he raised his eyebrows, looking back at her and jerking his head toward Frankie. Puzzled, she looked toward the exam room to see Frankie waving for her to come over. After a moment, she turned and walked over.

The three men watched as she leaned over at Frankie's gesture, smiling at something he whispered into her ear.

"Thank you. My husband thinks so too." Still smiling, she walked back. Seeing her husband's inquiring look, she explained. "He said I am very pretty."

John's eyes met Garibaldi's briefly in mutual amusement then memory came back to him and he looked away. Garibaldi's smile faded and he glanced away as well, back toward the boy. After a moment, he looked back, bowing slightly to Delenn before turning and walking into the exam room. The doctor there looked at him with no particular friendliness but with no obvious hostility either.

#

The Sheridans stared at Garibaldi and the boy for a long moment before walking into the room where Stephen was

"Don't ask." Stephan said before John could even open his mouth. "I don't know what's going on. All I know is that over the past four days, he's had an interesting array of visitors. Brother Theo and a number of his monks …" He caught their surprised looks. "He's been living with them in the Monastery. Fixing things and helping out in return for room and board. G'Kar's been here two, three times a day." He glanced at Garibaldi. "That bag he's carrying is G'Kar's; he carries the original of his book in it. He lent it to Garibaldi to read."

"Why?" Delenn asked.

Stephan shook his head. "G'Kar and Ta'Lon are the ones who rescued him from that beating. Maybe he feels responsible for him now."

"So he's doing something useful?" John asked, nodding out at where Garibaldi was helping Frankie slip his shirt off and steadying him so the doctor could examine him.

"Yeah, I guess he is. Brother Theo says he helps out a great deal down there."

"He looks like hell." John said quietly, uncertain if he should be happy or sad about that.

"Yeah, he does. Even so, he's surprisingly healthy. Underweight by way too much but all whipcord muscle. Of course there's the scars and the damaged larynx and the occasional nightmares but other then that ..."

"So he can't speak at all?"

"Nope. Not a sound. The damage to his throat's too extensive. I'm amazed it didn't kill him."

John tore his thoughts from his former friend and back to the present. "Still available for lunch?"

"Sure. I'll be there." He nodded at his bag. "After I visit Margaret.

"See you then." Slipping his arm around his wife, John walked from the Medlab. Garibaldi didn't look up as they left, not even when Frankie waved enthusiastically.

#

Almost two hours later the couple strolled toward the Fresh Aire restaurant, toward the table where Stephen was already sitting. He nodded a welcome and returned to watching something out in the marketplace. Curious, Delenn turned to look, stiffening at the sight of Garibaldi standing near a hot food stand. He was eating something as he watched Frankie zip around an open area of the market. She was surprised to see him out so openly ... despite the hood of the duster, he was still easily recognizable ... and in fact could see a few people eying him. A couple actually started to move toward him but the little man working the food stand heft a pan with obvious purpose and they backed off hastily.

John followed her eyes, lips thinning at the sight of his former friend then he saw the food seller and smiled. "Julio."

"What?" Delenn said in confusion.

"Julio." It was Stephen who explained. "Makes burritos. Became an instant legend a few years back when a couple hoodlums tried to rob him. He threw a pan full of hot oil in one's face and stabbed the other in the leg. Clear case of self-defense. Well."

Ta'Lon had appeared and was standing next to Garibaldi, chatting with Julio. It was obvious to even the dumbest of would-be tormentors that he was protecting the man.

"What the hell is going on?" John muttered.

"I don't know." Delenn said curtly. "But I mean to find out." She rose and stepped from the restaurant. John and Stephen looked at each other then watched as she walked toward a nearby fruit stand. It took them a moment to realize G'Kar was there, looking through the fruit.

Delenn stopped near him. "G'Kar."

"Ahhhh! Delenn. Do you have any idea what to do with this?" He held up a piece of fruit. "He calls it a pomegranate but he doesn't seem to know how you eat it." He glanced at the proprietor, who was an Abbai. "He does say it is an Earth fruit."

"No, I don't. G'Kar, I want some answers."

"Answers are not always available." He put the pomegranate in the bag he held and reached for a different fruit. "And when you do get them you often find you did not really want them at all."

"G'Kar!" She paused, forcing calm onto herself. "Please. Come, sit, talk with us."

The Narn paused, looking at her. "There is little I can tell you but if it will make you feel better." He paid for the fruit and followed her back, sitting in a chair Stephen had pulled over when they had seen him returning with Delenn. The woman sat across from him, between her husband and the doctor.

G'Kar set the bag on the table and pulled out the pomegranate again. "How do you eat this?" He said to no one in particular.

"Cut it open. Eat the insides." Stephen explained.

"Ahhhh. Interesting."

"Why are you buying fruit anyway?" John asked.

"Frankie." He glanced at Stephen. "The good doctor recommended more fruit in his diet. Normally it is oranges but he seems to be acquiring a faint orange tinge so I thought I would find some other Earth fruit for him." He set the pomegranate on the table and pulled out another piece of fruit, examining it.

"G'Kar." Delenn said sharply. "What is Ta'Lon doing?"

G'Kar looked toward the other Narn. "Standing."

Delenn's lips thinned dangerously. "Why there?"

"Because if he does not stand there, someone is going to harass Michael and Michael is not yet ready to defend himself. Though Julio is very good at scaring people off." He chuckled. "And this is?"

"Mango. Eat it the same way." John this time.

"G'Kar, you are changing the subject."

"No. I am avoiding it. There is a difference."

"G'Kar." Delenn said quietly but firmly and G'Kar, paused, studying her for a long moment before setting the mango down. Moving the bag to one side, he crossed his arms on the table, looking at her.

Delenn and crossed her arms in turn, not looking away from the other Ambassador. John and Stephen looked at each other in dismay, the terms 'irresistible force' and 'immovable object' popping into their heads simultaneously. Slowly they both eased back, out of the line of fire.

"What is going on?" She demanded.

"Innumerable things. You will have to specify."

"Why are you dealing with Garibaldi?"

"Dealing with. You make it sound like business, which it is not." Before she could say anything, he continued. "He is my friend, Delenn. I was not a very good friend over a year ago; I choose to be a better one now."

"What he did ..."

"I know what he did and I am not ignoring it. I simply choose to accept him and move on."

"Why?"

He looked at her somberly. "Because once he chose to accept me and move on."

"G'Kar ..."

"Someone once told me that a friend is someone who walks toward you while all others walk away. Delenn, Michael is still my friend and I choose not to leave him to face the darkness alone. I realize that may make you unhappy; may make many people unhappy but, despite what he did, I simply can not do that."

Delenn stared at him, thinking back at what she had seen in Garibaldi's eyes. The waiter approaching the table sized up the situation and, with that ages-old instinct of servers everywhere, eased back. Both John and Stephen had to resist the impulse to follow him.

"G'Kar, do you know why he did what he did?" Delenn finally asked, unable to say the words that defined Garibaldi's betrayal.

He picked up the pomegranate, looking at it thoughtfully. "Yes. Yes, I do." He said finally, looking back up at her. "Do not ask me though, I can not tell you. I promised."

"Is it a good reason?"

"No reason is a good reason, Delenn." He said curtly. "It is an explanation, that is all. But I can assure you he means no harm to any of you or to this station. And that, too, he very deeply regrets what happened."

After a moment, she turned to look across the market to see Garibaldi now sitting at a bench, the boy in front of him. He was adjusting something on the cart with Ta'Lon's help, listening with a slight smile as the boy chattered at them both, nodding occasionally. When she turned back to G'Kar, the Narn had returned the fruit to the bag and rose, holding it in one arm. He stepped around the table to tower over her, speaking quietly.

"All I can say to you is what Brother Theo said to me, based on his years of experience with people. That man over there." He nodded toward Garibaldi, now getting to his feet. "That is the man we all knew before he vanished for two weeks. He is not the angry, alienated man who was returned to us. And now if you will excuse me. Frankie's mother suggested a nap around this time and Michael will undoubtedly feel safer back Downbelow. Have a good day." And he was gone, leaving the threesome gaping after him.

Delenn felt a chill descend upon her and rubbed at her arms in an attempt to warm them. "Returned to us. Not rescued. Not retrieved. Not found. Returned."

John Sheridan stared at the tabletop, his lips compressed. "We always thought there was something wrong with the way he disappeared and then found. We never took the time to look closer."

"We never had the time." Stephen corrected then stopped, wondering how good of an excuse that really was. Despite the joy they had felt when Michael was found, they had viewed him with suspicion because of the circumstances, something that contrasted sharply with their ready acceptance of Sheridan's return from the dead. He looked toward where G'Kar was now talking with Garibaldi. "Physically there was no evidence of the Shadows doing anything to him."

"There was no evidence then. What about now?" Delenn asked quietly. "What if something was done to him ... something more was done to him ... after your examinations were finished?"

Stephen frowned, looking from Delenn to John and then back again. "I suppose that could be possible. Do you want me to check? John?"

John looked up to meet his eyes. "I should hate him for what he did. Not so much for what he did to me but to my father."

"But?" Delenn asked quietly when he fell silent.

John shook his head. "I remember him the way he was. The meals he'd cook for us. The stupid jokes and half-assed remarks which were usually right on the money. The way he dealt with people, no matter who or what they were. Fighting for us. Preparing the White Star for my trip to Z'ha'dum without any questions." His throat tightened. "He was so damn proud of that Army of Light uniform. He told me once that it was the first thing he'd ever really earned on his own merit. When he returned, it was like he couldn't stand the sight of it. Or of me. I just thought he was shell-shocked. That he'd get over it."

"We all did." Stephen said.

"But he didn't. It was like - everything just got worse." He paused, looking around for Garibaldi but he, the boy, and the two Narns were gone. "There's something I've never mentioned before. I thought maybe I dreamed it up but now ... When the Rangers rescued me, as Marcus was helping me out of the cell, he said something to me. Later I just thought I'd misheard or it was just wishful thinking on my part but now I wonder." He paused, thinking of the Ranger and knowing that he'd never be able to ask him. Marcus had been killed during that rescue. "He said 'Michael sent us. He told me where you could be and how to get you out.'."

Delenn and Stephen looked at each other then back at him. He looked from one to the other, finally settling on Stephen. "Do the tests. See what you can find out. I don't know if he'll cooperate though."

Stephen snorted. "If he doesn't, I'll sic G'Kar on him. Somehow I think that'll work."

#

Michael came out of the latest nightmare with a burning desire for a drink.

He fought the desire down, refusing to give into it, knowing that even the slightest sip of alcohol would be the end of him. He'd never stop and there was no way in hell he'd give that bastard the satisfaction of destroying him completely. His throat felt raw from trying to scream and he reflected that it was a good thing he was mute or he'd be waking everyone within hearing on a nightly basis. Throwing back the blanket, he reached for a shirt and pulled it on, getting up and opening the door to step out.

He wasn't surprised to see the monks already gathered for midnight offices, each kneeling in their place. Moving quietly, he knelt to one side of Brother Andrew. While he didn't pray, he did find the time useful for meditation, calming his mind and heart, the prayer soothing to his ears. He breathing slowed, returning to normal. By the time the prayer had ended, he was calm, rising with them and waiting for them to return to their beds before walking into the kitchen area, his bare feet slapping on the floor. He was reaching for the whetstone when Brother Theo spoke from the doorway.

"The nightmares are back?"

He turned to look at the older man.

"Or did they never leave?" Brother Theo looked concerned.

Michael pulled himself up to sit on the counter._ Never really left _he admitted as he proceeded to sharpen a dull knife. He paused, watching as Brother Theo set a kettle on a burner, waiting until the man was facing him again. _Sometimes I think Bester put them there deliberately._

Brother Theo thought over what he'd heard of the man. "I suppose that's possible." He reached for a couple mugs and began to prepare tea. "Do you know which memories are real and which are not?"

Michael looked down, the dream memories flooding him. He shuddered, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, his stomach churning at one particular nightmare. He finally shook his head.

"When this is over, there is a psychologist I want you to speak to. I think you need to." The monk offered him a steaming mug of tea. "Here. This will help you sleep."

_Thanks_. Michael took the mug.

#

_Three days later, on Mars_

Bester sat at the desk in the hotel room, reading the report that Captain Lochley had written for EarthForce. Every now and then, he glanced at the man sitting on a nearby chair, his eyes open but unseeing, prying information from his mind as needed. When he finished, he erased the portions of the report EarthForce didn't need to know about and sat back, drumming his fingers on the desk.

The switch with Security on Babylon 5 had caught him off-guard, happening so quickly he hadn't been able to block it. And he was finding his attempts to thwart the sale of the station to the Alliance ... well, thwarted at every turn. Ever since Clark's fall, the PsiCorps power had waned. His power had waned. Though he had poked and prodded the board as much as he dared, they had been unable or unwilling to help. In fact, he had been told in no uncertain terms that Babylon 5 was of no interest to them. When he reminded them of the rogue telepaths escaping through the station, he was told to let them go. Their interest now was in changing the image of PsiCorp, to make it more acceptable to the grunting animals they referred to as mundanes and to tend to telepaths happy with their lives in PsiCorp.

But he had no intention of letting any telepaths go, anymore then he had of letting the station become truly independent. If it did then telepaths would swarm there and they could lose the most powerful of them. Telepaths that he needed for when he finally lead them against the mundanes and they took their place as the rightful rulers of humanity. In order to accomplish that, PsiCops once again needed free rein to hunt down rogues, even on Babylon 5.

But there was no harm in having some fun along the way and messing with Garibaldi was fun. He had long since despised the man, not only because of his refusal to acknowledge the obvious superiority of the telepaths but also because of something else the man had possessed, something he, Bester, didn't have and never would. But not any longer and Bester smiled. Under his subtle influence, Garibaldi himself had destroyed all of his hard-won friendships, turning himself into a hated pariah with no friends and no hope for help from anyone.

After he had released the man from his mental bondage, he had expected him to end up dead, either at the hands of vengeful members of the Mars Resistance or at his own hand. Suicide by drinking. He'd actually found himself daydreaming over the thought of Garibaldi drinking himself to death. But that hadn't happened. Somehow Garibaldi had survived, making his way to Babylon 5 and, for whatever reason, his former friends had let him not only live but to make his home there.

Lochley's report stated that the former security chief was worse for wear, scarred and unable to speak. The thought of the wisecracking Garibaldi unable to speak actually made him laugh out loud. Apparently he was the victim of repeated beatings as well, taking the abuse without defending himself, not fighting back. So maybe he was suicidal. Too cowardly to kill himself, he was probably waiting for someone else to do it for him.

But there was one troubling thing and that was the note that the Narn ambassador, G'Kar, was now apparently protecting the man. Perhaps he thought to use Garibaldi for his own purposes, though what purpose that could be Bester couldn't guess. He was surprised to feel a tinge of jealousy. Garibaldi was, after all, his to play with. Just because he wasn't at the moment didn't mean he was about to let anyone else have him.

The good thing was that the man's former friends wanted nothing to do with him. He would get no help from them. And perhaps ... Bester smiled suddenly.

He never considered Garibaldi to be completely stable, even before his tampering. His bouts of binge drinking, low self-esteem, and tendency toward self-destructive behavior were well-known. It wouldn't be surprising if such a man would plot revenge against his former friends. In fact, Lochley had expressed that very concern. With the right amount of tweaking, he could easily push Garibaldi into a violent confrontation with Sheridan, one that would end up with Sheridan and his wife dead. No one would be surprised that Garibaldi had finally lost it. Of course, Garibaldi would end up dead as well but that would be no great loss. He had long outlived his usefulness.

Absently he drew his gloved fingers along the desk, thinking it through then turned to look at Johnson, erasing bits of memory he no longer needed and implanting instructions he wouldn't even be aware of following. Once that was done, he left the room, leaving Johnson to return to himself. As he exited the hotel, he took no notice of the young student who watched him leave before making his way to a local commstation to send a message to his employer.


End file.
